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Merrick, Leonard, 1864-1939

"A Chair on the Boulevard"


Well, there was but one more week to bear now, and during the week I
allowed her to revel. This, though I was approaching embarrassments
_re_ the rent of my own attic!
How strange is life! Who shall foretell the future? I had wrestled with
my self-respect, I had nursed an investment which promised stupendous
profits were I capable of carrying my scheme to a callous conclusion.
But could I do it? Did I claim the prize, which had already cost me so
much? Monsieur, you are a man of the world, a judge of character: I ask
you, did I claim the prize, or did I not?
He threw himself back in the chair, and toyed significantly with his
empty glass.
I regarded him, his irresolute mouth, his receding chin, his
unquenchable thirst for absinthe. I regarded him and I paid him no
compliments. I said:
"You claimed the prize."
"You have made a bloomer," he answered. "I did not claim it. The prize
was claimed by the wife of a piano-tuner, who had discovered
mademoiselle Girard employed in the artificial flower department of the
Printemps. I read the bloodcurdling news at nine o'clock on a Friday
evening; and at 9:15, when I hurled myself, panic-stricken, into the
pension de famille, the impostor who had tricked me out of three weeks'
board and lodging had already done a bolt. I have never had the joy of
meeting her since."

HOW TRICOTKIN SAW LONDON
One day Tricotrin had eighty francs, and he said to Pitou, who was no
less prosperous, "Good-bye to follies, for we have arrived at an epoch
in our careers! Do not let us waste our substance on trivial pleasures,
or paying the landlord--let us make it a provision for our future!"
"I rejoice to hear you speak for once like a business-man," returned
Pitou.


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